You Rock My World
by Demigod-Howell82
Summary: This is a story about a girl named Kylie who dreams of making it big as a singer. She gets the chance to go to a performing arts school, and once there, she meets new friends, including a very, very special boy by the name of Michael Jackson...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Dream**

I closed my eyes.

I saw nothing but darkness, pure and simple. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, and nothing mattered. I couldn't hear anything. Not even my own breath, soft and slow. I just looked into the darkness, and took a deep breath.

Then, something happened. I saw a very small, very tiny glimpse of red. It flashed for only a second, and then it was gone. But before I knew it, I began to see more of it. It flashed again…and again…and again. Then came orange. It flashed for a while, until I saw yellow. Then green, then blue, then purple, even pink. All the colors of the rainbow, every single one, they were all flashing and dancing.

Then, I heard something. It was a bit fuzzy, but as I concentrated, it became louder and clearer. After a while, I could hear cheering, screaming, and something that sounded like thousands of people chanting my name:

"Kylie….Kylie…." It began to get louder…

"Kylie…Kylie…"…and louder,

"Kylie. Kylie." Louder.

"Kylie, Kylie." And it grew, and grew, and grew, until I could hear it all the way, as if it were right behind me: "KYLIE! KYLIE!" I realized they _were_ cheering my name, over and over. The colors flashed and danced to the beat of my name, and grew brighter and flashed more as the cheering grew. Finally, it became so bright, I had to open my eyes. The colors all blended into one, a bright, shining golden color. I opened my eyes, and I blinked to get used to the bright color. I saw it began to multiply, and I knew I was looking at spotlights.

There was a red velvet curtain that I was standing in front of, and I could hear the voices chanting my name like a tsunami, pushing back the curtain because of their force. Curious, I pushed back the curtain, and stepped out onto…a stage. I was suddenly blasted with the glow of even more spotlights, and the people cheering my name was almost deafening.

I looked around me. In front of me was a microphone on a stand. To my left and the back of me, there was a band-a couple of guitarists, a couple of bass players, a few backup singers and dancers, a drummer, a keyboardist, and a DJ. They all smiled and waved at me. I waved back weakly, having no clue what was going on.

Everybody in the audience was screaming and cheering-all because of…me? I suddenly felt nauseous, like I was going to throw up. I had tons of butterflies invading my stomach, and I felt kind of faint.

Then, I saw the microphone again. I looked at all the people out in the audience, and I got the feeling that I didn't want to let them down if I suddenly got sick. I wanted them to be happy, I guess.

Then, it hit me. I knew what I had to do.

Without even thinking, I jerked my thumb back towards the band, and the music began to play. Lights came on, flashing like crazy, different colors flying all over the place. The crowd went nuts, and started cheering even louder. I then knew I couldn't disappoint them. I took the mic in my hand.

Then, I opened my mouth, and started to sing.

I don't even know how I knew the words, I just did, somehow.

But once I sang the first word, I got this feeling inside of me. I felt I was on a cloud, floating away in space. I felt all my worries, all my problems, all my fears, just seem to cast off of my shoulders. I felt myself smiling, and even moving to the music. But I liked it. I felt good. I was being myself. I was happy.

So there I was, up on that stage, doing what I loved. And pretty soon, I was totally rocking out. I was singing my heart out to an awesome song, and pleasing thousands upon thousands of fans.

Then, I heard a voice off in the distance, but strangely close, calling my name. "Kylie."

I kept singing, but I looked around warily for the person who'd called me. I then saw stagehands in the wings, calling "Ky! Hey, Kylie! Get up!" I didn't know what he meant, so I kept on performing. But the stagehands were persistent, and they called, "Kylie! Get up! You're going to be late!"

"Late for what?" I asked, confused.

Then, like a light turning off, I opened my eyes.

I looked up and saw the ceiling. I turned and saw the walls, covered in pictures and posters. And like a two-ton boulder being dropped on top of me, I felt all my worries and woes being bestowed upon me again.

I heard the voice again, and I knew it. It was my mom.

"Kylie, dear, get up. You're going to be late for school."

I groaned. I realized I was in my bedroom. Back in reality.

"Coming…" I managed to call back.

I sighed. It had been such a great dream, the best one I'd ever had.

But it was over now, and I unfortunately had to go back to regular life.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and my feet met the floor. I stood, and walked over to my small closet. Posters of my favorite singers covered the door-the Black Eyed Peas, Beyonce, Boys Like Girls, Lady GaGa and Paramore, among others.

I opened the door and shuffled through my clothes. I wasn't really looking forward to the day ahead, even though it was the last day of school, so I chose an outfit that matched my mood: a long-sleeve gray shirt, jeans, my black jacket, and my black Converse shoes. I brushed my hair and teeth, grabbed my backpack, stuck my iPod in its secret pocket there, and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind me.

I came out to the kitchen, dropped my backpack by the door, and went to the freezer in the refrigerator to see what I could eat for my breakfast. I found we only had two things: microwaveable french toast sticks, which I hated, and toaster waffles, which tasted like cardboard. I closed the door and opened a cabinet where we usually had some more breakfast necessities, and found we were all out of Pop-Tarts.

I finally settled on the toaster waffles.

When they popped out of the toaster, I got them out, put them on a plate, drizzled them with syrup, got a fork, and sat down over at the kitchen table.

My little brother Evan came bounding down the stairs, singing, "Field trip day! Field trip day! Hip hip hooray for field trip day!"

I smiled. Evan was in the second grade, and he loved school, which was the exact opposite of me. His class was always going places. I loved my little bro, though it got on my nerves sometimes when he went through my stuff.

He grabbed the stool next to the refrigerator, stood on it, and went looking through one of the cabinets until he got out a package of-

"Pop-Tarts!" he said proudly, holding up the silver cellophane containing the food. "Hot fudge sundae flavor, too!"

I looked at the waffles on my plate with dismay. I should have known we'd had one more package of my favorite kind.

I asked my brother, "Where's your class going?"

"The zoo!" Evan exclaimed, climbing down from the stool. He sat down next to me, opened the package, and started eating the Pop-Tarts. With his mouth full, he said, "We're gonna see the monkeys, and the edelphants, and the monkeys, and the polar bears, and the monkeys, and the giraffes, and I also wanna see the monkeys!"

"_Elephant_, you little nut job," I said, tousling his brown hair. "When are you going to get that word right?"

"I dunno, but who cares? I'm going to the zoo!" Evan replied, chowing down the rest of his food.

I shook my head. Seven-year-olds.

I finished the disgusting waffles and drank some orange juice.

My mom walked in just then, wearing her pink bathrobe and bunny slippers. "Kylie, honey, you might want to get going. Lisa will be waiting. And I know she invited you shopping this afternoon, so you have my cell phone number if you need me, right?" I nodded.

I looked at the clock above the window. It was 7:25.

I grabbed my backpack, called goodbye to mom, gave Evan a hug and wished him a good time on his trip, and walked out the door.

I met my friend Lisa at the stop sign.

"Hi, Kylie!" she exclaimed.

I sighed. She was always a bit perky, but today I wasn't in the mood. I was going back to school. I hated school. "Hey," I replied.

We started walking down the sidewalk, which led to our school a few streets away.

"Why so glum, chum?" Lisa asked me. "This is the last day of school, the last day of eighth grade! You should be excited!"

"I'm just tired," I lied. I was really just mad that I'd been woken up from the best dream ever.

"That's OK," my friend replied. "So what stores do you wanna hit after school?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, whichever ones you want to look in," I said. The truth was, I hated shopping. There just wasn't anything for me.

"OK, well, first, I wanna go into Forever 21, then Icing, then that really cute store that just opened on Broad Street…"

I tuned her out. I didn't want to hear her babble.

I thought of all the things I would do this summer. Not much, considering I didn't do much else besides listen to my iPod and sing. But I had to do something. All the other kids in my class were either going away on some fancy-shmancy cruise, or sleeping over at their friends' houses night after night, or taking trips to Disneyland or SeaWorld or some other theme park, others were going camping.

But me? I was stuck at home, bored out of my mind. And I probably would be all this summer. As usual.

I began humming a song I liked, but once I was getting to the good part, I heard a voice call out from somewhere, "Kylie? Kylie?"

I smiled, because I thought I was having the dream again. I pushed back the velvet curtain and stepped out onto the stage…

"Ow!" Lisa yelped.

I quickly woke up, and realized I'd stepped on her foot. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to!" I tried to apologize.

"Whatever," she replied, walking ahead of me. "Gosh, Kylie, you're so strange sometimes,"

"Maybe strange is a good thing," I mumbled under my breath.

We walked in silence the rest of the way until we reached the school. It was a low gray building, kind of small, but big enough to fit all the people who went there.

"Oh, there's Shelly! Shelly!" called Lisa, and she raced off to her friend, which meant I was alone.

I took a deep breath, and walked inside to homeroom.

Most of the day went pretty well. We watched movies in all our classes, which was fun, but I sat by myself in the back of the room.

I had no friends, except Lisa, but she wasn't that good of a friend. No one ever wanted to sit next to "Kreepy Kylie", as they sometimes called me.

At the end of the day, I walked to the bus stop at the sidewalk and waited for Lisa.

When she came, she said, "OK, let's go. I can't wait!" and we headed for downtown.

The shops here in Los Angeles are a bit expensive, I can never afford anything. That's why I shop at places like Wal-Mart.

Lisa, however, was walking out of every store with a bag full of stuff. She had a lot of money, I guessed. It was interesting for me to see all the cool stuff they had, despite the fact that I was broke. We passed a music store, and Lisa had to drag me away from this really cool cherry red Fender electric guitar, amp included, but it cost three hundred dollars.

We shopped-and we shopped-and we shopped-until I felt my arms were gonna drop off from holding all of Lisa's shopping bags.

"OK, I'm beat, how about you?" Lisa said.

I was breathing heavily from holding up the heavy bags for so long. How could a girl need all this stuff?

"All righty, then," she replied. "Let's look in this one last store and then we'll call it a day."

We walked into the store, when I saw something that made me stop dead in my tracks. It was a purple flyer, with the big white bold headline saying:

**CALLING ALL PERFORMERS!**

I read the rest of it.

Are you dreaming of becoming a world-famous musician, dancer or artist? Do you long for the world to know you for who you are and your talents? Did you ever wonder that your biggest dream could come true? Well, now's the chance for you to make that dream a reality. The Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts is holding auditions for next school year for anyone who hopes to become a student and share their gifts with the world. LACPA is always welcoming new talent, but be wise-you get only one chance. Auditions will be held at Riffley Auditorium on Tuesday, July 14th from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Thank you, and have a good day.

I stood there staring at the flyer for what seemed like hours.

I couldn't believe it.

A school where I could sing? A place where talent is needed? Somewhere that I belong?

"Come on, Ky," said Lisa impatiently, pulling me into the store.

But I managed to grab the flyer and pull it off the window. I stuffed it in my backpack.

I figured I'd be needing it soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Hoping**

I lay awake in bed that night, thinking about the flyer. I remembered it word for word, for once it was in my mind, I couldn't get it out.

The Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts…

A place for people like me. People who aren't afraid to show their talents, people who have that dream to make it big, who work hard at what makes them special and unique.

You bet I wanted to go there.

The next morning, I showed the flyer to my mom. When I came down to breakfast, it was in my hand.

"Hey, mom," I said. "Good morning."

"Hey, Ky," she replied. "You seem to be in a good mood today."

"I am, and it's all because of this." I slapped the flyer on the kitchen table. "I found this when I was out shopping with Lisa yesterday."

My mom read it over, and I stood with my fingers crossed, hoping she'd say yes. After a while, she spoke.

"You really want to go here, to LACPA? What about the high school you were going to next year?"

"Mom…" I took a deep breath. "I hated it at my school, and I didn't have any friends, well, except for Lisa. Everyone treated me like a loser, I was the girl nobody wanted to hang out with, and pretty much they all hated my guts. But LACPA would be a great opportunity for me to get out there and try new things, make new friends, and fit in for once with a bunch of people who like the same things I do. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me."

My mom was quiet for a few minutes. Then she said,

"All right, then. I'll let you audition."

I gave her a big hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!"

Mom smiled. "I know, honey. I know."

The beginning of my summer was pretty okay. We belonged to a local community pool, and spent most of our days going there. We went to the movies a lot and saw a bunch of films. Sometimes Lisa would call me and tell me all about her days at summer camp. They did all sorts of stuff, like hike and swim and explore the outdoors, they'd roast marshmallows for s'mores over a bright campfire, they'd sing songs, and her favorite part was arts and crafts, where they got to make their own t-shirts and pillow cases. I told her I was happy that she was having a great time, and said that my summer was going well, too, despite going to the same old boring pool every other day surrounded by little three-year-olds covered in sunscreen and water wings.

I was tuning my guitar one night when she called. My cell phone rang, and I walked over to my bed to get it. I pressed the 'talk' button, and before I got the chance to ask who it was, Lisa's voice squealed, "Kylie! Hey! How are you? Gosh, it's been so long since I've gotten to talk to you!"

"It's been two days," I informed her. "I'm good. How have you been at camp?"

"Ohmygosh, it's SO fun!" she replied. "Today we got to play Capture the Flag, boys vs. girls, and I was the girls' captain, and my super-hot crush Brian was the boys' captain, and well, I was, like, going to get the flag and everything, and I ran into some of the boys, and, oh my gosh, I swear, they were _totally_ checking me out! Really!"

"Is that so?" I said. I sat down on my bed, picked up my guitar, and started tuning it again.

"Yeah!" Lisa exclaimed. "And, they were all like, 'What are you doing here'? And I was like, 'Well, trying to get the flag' and they were like, 'You're not gonna get it', and I was like, 'Yes, I am'-"

I tuned her out. I focused on tuning the middle right chord. I thought of a really good sound I could turn it to, but I could never get it just right. I was just about at the right notch when…

"Kylie! Kylie! Ugh, are you even listening, Kylie?" Lisa demanded.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Lisa, I was just trying to tune my guitar right." I finally managed to get the chord right where I wanted it. Then, I thought of my big news. I just couldn't contain it any more. I burst out, "Guess where I'm going to school this year!"

"Where?" Lisa asked.

"The Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts!" I exclaimed.

"Whoa, Kylie, that's big," she replied. "That's like a school for people who are, like, stuck up and stuff. They're know-it-alls, and they think they actually have a chance to make it big. You think you have what it takes to like, get in there?"

"I can do what I can do," I said. "It's tough, I know, and there's probably going to be a lot of competition, but I'll just try my best, and, hopefully, I'll get in."

"So you wanna be a Miss Priss now."

"No. Lisa, that's not what I meant. I just said-"

"So you now wanna be the popular girl, the one who has, like, everything, and makes others feel like dirt, like, Kylie, what's gotten into you?"

I had no idea what was making Lisa so upset. "I'm just going to the school of my dreams, that's all. Is it really that bad?"

"Oh, so now it's 'the school of your dreams', is that it?" Lisa asked in a rude tone. "You just saw the flyer, like, the last day of school. That can't be, like, your dream school, now, right?"

"Lisa, I don't know what you're getting so worked up over," I tried to explain to her. "I'm just going to audition to a really good school, is it that big a deal?"

"Whatever. I don't wanna talk to someone who's gonna turn into a Little Miss Princess anyway. I won't bother calling you again. You'll probably be spending too much time with your new popular friends anyway. See ya, Kylie."

"Lisa, wait-" I tried to say, but she hung up.

I pressed the 'off' button on my phone, sighed, and continued tuning my guitar. I guessed I wasn't going to be hearing from Lisa for a long, long time.

The days leading up to the audition were a little stressful for me. I'd picked out the song I was going to sing, 'Already Gone' by Kelly Clarkson, one of my favorite singers. Still, as I practiced in front of the mirror (call me embarrassing, I know), I couldn't help but get that weird butterfly feeling inside of me, like even though I wasn't in front of any judges yet, I felt like I had to do my best, or it would be all for nothing. That's what they expected at LACPA, anyway.

On July 14th, we left a little late because my mom had to run some errands. Evan, my mom and I got in the car first to drop off Evan at his friend's birthday party, and then me at Riffley Auditorium.

But guess what? Once we hit the highway, we hit traffic. So we had to sit there in our Honda Civic and wait for half an hour. Once that cleared up, we were on our way to Evan's destination. Well, once we arrived there, my chatterbox mom got talking with the other moms, and we left another half hour later. It was now 4:00. I had one more hour before auditions were over.

After we left the party house, we drove to the city to Riffley's. But, lucky us, we hit traffic again. There had been a big car accident a few miles up ahead, and we were behind what seemed like endless cars. We had to sit there for almost 45 minutes, passing time listening to the radio and munching on the Chex Mix my mom always keeps in the glove compartment.

Anyway, we still had about twelve minutes of driving before we finally parked outside of the auditorium. I had about less than two minutes before auditions were over. I got out of the car, received a "good luck" from mom, and raced inside the building.

Little did I know that my life was about to be changed forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Surprises**

I ran through the doors into the big auditorium. I saw three judges packing up their stuff.

"Wait!" I called. "Hang on! Don't go yet!"

They all turned around and saw me.

"Who are you and how old are you?" one of them asked.

I was a little out of breath, but I said, "Kylie Connell. I'm thirteen. I'm here to audition for LACPA."

"Sorry, kid," she replied. "You just missed them."

"Do you have time for just one more?" I asked.

"Nope. We got things to do, places to go, people to see. Maybe next time."

"Please!" I begged. "It's been my lifelong dream to go to a school like this!"

"Kid, I thought I told you-the answer is no." said the judge.

Then I got an idea. "Well, what if I sing while you finish getting your stuff together?"

The judge sighed. "Fine. I just hope you're good."

I walked up onstage, but I was getting a little hot in my jacket, so I unzipped it and tossed it backstage. The judges were looking at me.

I took a deep breath, then opened my mouth and began to sing.

"Remember all the things we wanted,

Now all our memories are haunted.

We were never meant to say goodbye…

Even with our fists held high,

It never would have worked out right,

We were never meant for do or die…

I didn't want to burn us out…

I didn't come here to hold you, now I can't stop…"

The judges got a spark of interest in their eyes, so I went on to the chorus.

"I want you to know that it doesn't matter

Where we take this road,

Cuz someone's gotta go…

And I want you to know…

You couldn't have loved me better…

But I want you to move on,

Cuz I'm already gone…"

The judges didn't say anything for a while. They just sat there and stared at me. I stood there up on stage, waiting for them to say something like, "Good job!" or "Wow, you're amazing!" or even "Hey, nice job, now get out." But they didn't. My face fell, and I thought they'd rejected me, but then one of them spoke up.

"We'll consider it, Ms. Connell. Come back tomorrow and see if you made it."

And that was all. They just continued packing up their things in silence.

Pretty soon, they were done. I went backstage to get my jacket, and the judges were just getting up to leave with their bags, when I heard the door of the auditorium burst open and a voice calling out,

"Wait! Wait! Don't leave yet!"

I was still putting my jacket on backstage, so I peeked through the curtain to see who it was.

It was a boy who looked about the same age as me. He had light skin, long curly black hair, brown eyes, and he was awfully cute. He was wearing a white shirt, black pants, white socks, black shoes, and a black fedora. Like I said, he was really cute, and my heart did jumping jacks at the sight of him.

"Another one? Look kid, auditions are over. If you want to try out for next year, come back next summer." said a judge.

"No, wait, please, I can do stuff," said the boy. "Just give a minute of your time to give me a chance."

"Don't you people ever understand the word 'NO'?" the judge replied. "We're filled up. There's no more time for tryouts."

"Please, sir…" the boy said quietly. I swear I could see tears in his eyes. "This may be my only chance to make my dream come true. If you'd just open your heart to let someone like me show you what I've got, well, that would mean the world to me."

The judges whispered amongst themselves for a while. Finally, one of them asked,

"What's your name, kid?"

"Michael," the boy replied. "Michael Jackson."

"And how old are you?" said the judge.

"Fourteen, sir."

"What can you do?"

"I can sing, sir, and I love to dance."

"Very well, dazzle us." said the judge.

Michael walked up onstage, and the judges sat down. I watched from backstage.

He took a deep breath, and then began to dance.

The judge's jaws dropped about ten feet. So did mine.

That boy could DANCE.

He was the best dancer I'd ever seen, even better than the ones on MTV. He could keep his body moving like he knew just what he was doing, as if he'd been practicing this routine for a long time. His feet had a mind of their own. They'd go this way, that way, step to side, everywhere. You could tell he was really into it, too. He just kept his mind focused on the rhythm that seemed to be playing in his head.

Then my jaw dropped even more when he began to sing.

"I took my baby on a Saturday bang,

But is that girl with you? Yes, we're one and the same…

Now I believe in miracles,

And a miracle has happened tonight…"

Then he added what sounded like a "Hee!"

"But if you're thinkin' about my baby,

It don't matter

If you're black or white…"

Then for the grand finale, he threw his hat aside, backstage, and it almost hit me in the face, and he did a dance move that knocked the wind out of me.

He spun around, and then landed on his toes.

Then he ended in another cool dance move.

He'd finished, but he was out of breath, it looked like. I'd be, too, if I could dance that well.

He looked at the judges, but they said nothing. They continued to stare at him, their mouths open in disbelief.

After a while, Michael said, "So? Whaddaya think?"

Another long pause. Then a judge said, "We'll see, Mr. Jackson. We'll see."

Then they got their bags again, and left the building.

Michael said to himself, "Huh. I'm not sure if they liked it or not. Oh well, I'll just have to find out tomorrow."

He walked backstage to get his hat, which had landed near my foot. I backed up and tried to run and hide, because he really was cute, and I didn't want him to think I'd been the last one there, but klutzy, klutzy me, I tripped and fell.

He put his fedora back on, but he saw me.

He walked over, reached out his hand, and said, "Oh! I'm sorry! Did I startle you?"

I took his hand, and he pulled me up.

"No, no, I'm fine," I replied, blushing like a maniac. "Thanks…"

"No problem. Were you here auditioning, too?"

How did he know? "Um, yeah…yes, I was. They almost didn't let me go, but I really, really want to get into LACPA, so I begged and they let me try out."

"Oh, cool. I wish I could've heard you. You seem like you did a really good job." He straightened his hat.

"Oh, well…thank you…" I was finally shaking off my embarrassment, and I began to act like a normal person, like myself. "I was just leaving when you came, and I saw you perform."

"Really?" Michael said. "Did you like it? Was I good?"

"You are the best dancer I have ever seen! Where did you learn to move like that?"

He giggled. "Thanks. And I don't really know, it just, came to me, I guess. I kind of learned it on my own."

"Did you have like a handbook or something?" I asked.

He blushed. "No, I made it up myself."

My mouth fell open. "You made up that spectacular routine all by yourself?"

"Yup." He grinned.

"No way…" I said. "And where did your learn to sing like that? You were awesome!"

"Thank you," he replied. "I just sing, that's all. Singing's as easy for me as drawing a breath and exhaling it. I just open my mouth, and a song comes out."

"But that was a great song!" I said. "Where did you get it from?"

"Me," he said, pointing at himself. "I wrote it."

"Wow, you're a songwriter, too?" I was amazed already by him.

"Yes. It's called 'Black or White'. It means that it doesn't matter what race you are or what background you come from, you can always be my girl or be my friend."

"Well, it's a cool song," I tried to get my jacket untangled. "Ugh…stupid…thing…"

"Here, let me help you," Michael offered. He managed to straighten it out. "There you go…" He then pulled it over my shoulders so I could get into it. I suddenly got a very warm feeling inside of me. I was right up close to him, and he was putting my jacket on for me. I reached up to straighten the collar, and our hands touched for a brief moment. His hand was nice and warm. We both blushed, and I finished getting my jacket on.

"Umm…thanks," I said quietly.

"Anytime…" he replied, just as quiet.

Just then, my cell phone rang, and the ringtone was 'The Gummy Bear Song'.

'Oh I'm a gummy bear,

Yes I'm a gummy bear…'

Michael cracked up. I was blushing up a storm and I was so mad at my phone for ruining the moment, I wanted to chuck it across the stage.

"You have 'The Gummy Bear Song' as your ringtone?" Michael laughed.

"Yeah…it was free," I muttered. I looked at the screen to see who was calling. It was Mom.

I pushed the 'talk' button and said, "Hello?"

"Hey, Ky, are auditions over?" my mother asked.

"Yes, they are, I was just leaving…" I replied.

"Okay, well, I'm waiting outside when you're ready,"

"All right, thanks, bye." I hung up.

"Who was that?" Michael asked, still laughing.

"My mom," I said. "She's waiting outside, I should probably leave…"

"Okay, then-" Then I heard a Mickey Mouse voice coming from his pocket.

'Hi, there, folks! This is Mickey, reminding you to pick up the phone! You don't want to miss who's calling! Now pick up the phone! Go on, pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it-'

"Aw, shut up, Mickey," Michael muttered, getting his cell phone out. "I'm getting the darn thing out." I giggled.

Michael looked at the screen, and he bit his bottom lip, which I thought was the cutest thing in the world! But I asked him, "Who is it?"

"It's my father…" he replied. "I knew it, I knew I should have left sooner…"

"Why? Is it because of me? I didn't keep you here too long, did I?" I asked.

"No, it's not you, it's me. My dad gets really upset when I don't do as I'm told…I'll be right back…" He then walked out into the empty auditorium. Even from behind the curtain, I could hear shouting coming from the phone. Michael would say things like, "I'm sorry!" or "It wasn't that long!" and "But I won't know until tomorrow!"

Finally, he said, "Well, I can't promise you anything. I won't find out if I got in until tomorrow. Yes, I will let you know. Katherine, too. And the others as well. Now I'll see you when I get home!" He hung up.

He walked backstage again, and I could see tears in his eyes. "Sorry about that…like I said, he gets really mad when I don't follow his orders."

"Are you okay?" I asked. "It sounded like he was really angry with you about something."

"I don't want to talk about it…" he said quietly.

"Okay," I agreed. "So, yeah, I should go now, my mom's probably wondering where I am."

"Yeah, me too." We both walked out of the auditorium. I saw my mom's car, and a city transit bus pulling up.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around," said Michael.

"Do you need a ride home?" I asked.

"No thanks, I'm taking the bus." He jerked his thumb back towards the vehicle.

"Okay, well, see you sometime soon, I hope you get in LACPA."

"You too, um…you know, I never got your name."

"Kylie," I answered. "Kylie Connell."

"Michael," he said, though I already knew that. "Michael Jackson."

We shook hands, and I got that warm feeling inside of me again. We both blushed, and drew our hands apart.

I walked over to my mom's car, but I called out, "Bye, Michael!"

"Bye, Kylie!" he called back, before getting on the bus.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Wonders**

"Who was that?" my mom asked as I got into the car. The bus had driven away.

"Oh, no one, just…just somebody else who was auditioning," I replied, closing the car door and getting my seatbelt on. Once I had, we drove back towards home.

"He's cute," said Mom. "Do you like him?"

"Mom, that's embarrassing," I shook my head. "I never said I liked him…but yeah, he is cute."

"What's his name?" my mom pressed with a smile. "Did he do a good job in his audition? Is he talented?"

"Mom!" I protested. "You don't have to know everything,"

"I'm just curious. You two seem like a good couple."

I sighed. There was no getting past her now. "Well, if you must know, his name is Michael, and yes, he did a fantastic job trying out, and he is incredibly talented."

"What can he do?"

"He's an amazing singer, and an unbelievable dancer." I thought back to his performance. "You should see him! He moves like a professional! And his voice is beautiful…" I got a faraway look in my eye. "He's beautiful…" I whispered.

I turned around and saw my mom grinning at me mischievously. "You know you like him, Ky. I can see you do."

"Mom, just forget it," I sighed. "He's just a boy I met at auditions, that's all. Besides…" I looked down. "…he probably wouldn't like me anyway."

"Why wouldn't he?" my mom smiled. "You're pretty, smart, you can sing well, there's lots of things."

I flipped down the fold-up mirror thingy and studied myself. How could Michael ever like _this? _I had dark brown hair about three inches past my shoulders, blue eyes, and a couple of freckles on my nose. I was, you know, average. And he was cute. I also made mostly B's and C's in school. He seemed much smarter than me. Plus, I could sing, no big deal compared to him, someone who could dance and sing like magic.

"I'm none of those things…" I said. "I'm just, well, me."

"That's what makes you you," my mom told me. "Be proud of who you are, because there's nobody else like you."

I grinned. My mom was always there for me.

"When will you find out if you got in?"

"The judges said for me to come back tomorrow, and then I'd find out."

"Alright, then."

Even when we got home, and late that night, I still couldn't stop thinking about Michael. He was so cute, and so amazingly talented, and so sweet and kind. I hoped he'd get into LACPA. It would be nice if we could be friends once we both got in as students. Well, we wouldn't know for sure until tomorrow, but I sure hoped we'd make it in.

Finally, at around ten thirty that night, I fell asleep.

And I had a dream.

I saw Michael. He was sitting on the bus, which was moving through the city. I wasn't actually there, though. I was watching him. I was watching all of this, as if I were another person.

He was looking out the window. He seemed to be enjoying the view. The bus passed a little poodle stealing someone's hot dog. Michael grinned.

Then, the bus stopped. The doors opened, and a woman with a little girl got on. The little girl carried a balloon in one hand and a cookie in the other. The red balloon bounced against the roof as it was led to the seat across from Michael.

"Mommy, I wanna go to the movies," she complained as they sat down.

"You just went to your friend's birthday party," said the mother rolling her eyes. She sounded exasperated. "And you and your friends went to the amusement park and the mall. You don't need to go anywhere else today."

"But I wanna GO!" the girl demanded, throwing her fists in the air and stomping her feet. A few people turned around in their seats to look at them.

"Honey, you're not going. You've been plenty of places today already."

"Moooooooommmmm! I wanna GO!"

"No! And that's final."

The girl started to throw a tantrum. Now a lot of people were looking at them. Michael looked worried. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something that would calm her down. Then he opened them, and tapped the screaming girl on the shoulder.

"Hey, do you want to hear a story? It might make you feel better," he said comfortingly.

All at once, the kid stopped crying. She looked at him with big brown eyes, sniffled, and nodded. Everyone turned back around in their seats, glad for some peace.

"Well, the story," said Michael, "is called Penelope the Pink Platypus."

The little girl giggled.

"Once upon a time, in the magical land of Leridia, there lived a little pink platypus named Penelope. She loved everything that was pink," Michael began. He had the girl's undivided attention. "She had everything pink: a pink house with a pink roof and a pink door, a pink bedroom with a pink bed and a pink window, and a pink closet filled with pink dresses.

She had three best friends, Lion, Pony and Bunny. They all liked her, but they didn't like pink very much."

"Why didn't they like pink?" inquired the kid.

"Well, Lion's favorite color was blue, Pony's favorite color was purple, and Bunny was very fond of green. They didn't like pink because pink dresses didn't fit them as well as the dresses of the color they liked."

"Ohhh," the girl said, and let Michael go on.

"When Penelope's birthday came around, she decided to have a party, and she invited all her friends. And of course, she sent them pink invitations.

She very politely wrote on the invitations that she would like any presents that were pink. But then she thought, 'Well, they're my friends. They like me. I'll tell them exactly what I want.' So that's what she did. So she wrote to Lion, 'I want a pink hair bow for my pretty pink hair'. She wrote to Pony, 'I want a pink pair of shoes for my pretty pink feet'. And she wrote to Bunny, 'I want a pair of pink sunglasses so I can be the most fashionable pink platypus ever.'

She sent out the invitations, and her friends called back to say they could come. Penelope was very happy. She spent the day before the party decorating."

"Let me guess," said the girl. "Pink balloons, pink streamers, pink party hats, pink ice cream and a pink cake."

Michael smiled a beautiful, all-white, perfect smile. He'd smiled at me a lot during auditions, but I hadn't realized how pretty it was until just now.

"That's right," he said. "Everything pink. The next day was the day of the party. Penelope's friends came, and they all had a great time, wearing pink party hats, surrounded by pink balloons and pink streamers, eating pink cake and ice cream. But then she opened her presents. It turns out that Lion got her a pink hair bow for her pretty pink hair, Pony got her a pink pair of shoes for her pretty pink feet, and Bunny gave her a pair of pink sunglasses.

But Penelope wasn't pleased. She said, 'I thought you guys got me the things I wanted', and her friends told her that they did, that they got her just what she said she'd wanted.

'I thought you would get me something more than this,' Penelope said. Her friends then got mad at her and told her that she was an ungrateful platypus.

Penelope then realized that she didn't need anything more than what she already had. She had a great party, great gifts, and great friends who came despite the fact that they didn't like pink. She saw that you should be happy with what you have.

She apologized to her friends, loved her gifts they got her, and they all lived happily ever after. The end." Michael concluded.

"Wow, that was a great story! Mommy, I want to go home. I'm happy with where I went today and what I've got." said the little girl with a smile.

The mom grinned and said, "You see?" She mouthed the words _Thank you _to Michael.

He just smiled and said, "Just doing my part in this world, trying to make people happy."

The bus stopped outside a big gate.

"Well, this is me…" he said to himself.

The little girl and her mother waved one more time, and he waved back. He got off the bus, and it closed its doors before driving away.

Michael took a deep breath, and walked up to the gate. There was a little intercom built into a tree next to it. He held down the button and said, "Hey, it's just Michael." The gate beeped, and it swung open. Once he walked inside down the cobblestone path, the gate closed again.

He walked down the path until he came to a courtyard in front of the nicest house I'd ever seen, a white three-story mansion with red trim. The landscaping was really nice, with a stone fountain in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by hedges and bushes. The trees were blooming with pretty flowers, like pear, cherry and apple blossoms. It really was a beautiful home, and I was a little sad because I just lived in a small three-bedroom house on the outskirts of the city.

Anyway, Michael walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

A woman opened the door, and with a warm smile, she said,

"Michael! Hey, how did auditions go?"

"Hi, mom," Michael replied, giving her a hug. "They went well, better than I thought, actually." He smiled his beautiful, all-white smile, and my heart did somersaults.

His mother placed her hands on her hips and grinned. She was African-American, with short, curly black hair. She looked like a very nice person, and I was glad Michael had someone like her to look after him. "I know that look," she said knowingly. "Something happened. We'll need to know all the details."

"We'll?" Michael asked.

"Your brothers are home," she replied, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him towards the kitchen. The inside of the home was even nicer than the outside, with big furniture, and a huge flat-screen TV over a roaring fireplace.

There were pictures everywhere. One of them showed five very cute little kids, smiling with gaps in their teeth. Another one showed a boy playing a red guitar with another boy who looked just like him playing bass. There was one of two girls swimming in a pool.

I even saw one of an adorable little baby dressed in a cute blue jumper. He had big brown eyes, and he had the world's biggest smile on his face. I got the feeling it was baby Michael.

Mrs. Jackson steered Michael towards the dining room, where six people sat around a big mahogany table with a vase of flowers in the middle, and a crystal chandelier hanging overhead.

At the table were four boys and two girls, and they were all talking to each other, when they saw Michael.

"Yo, Mike!" called the tallest of the boys. "How did tryouts go?"

"Hey, Jackie," Michael replied, sitting down in an empty seat between the shortest of the boys and a girl with fluffy hair. "They were really good."

"Hey, Mike. Did you see anybody else try out?" asked another boy who was sitting next to the other girl.

"Hi, Tito. No, I didn't see anybody else there, I kinda got there a little late." He looked down and blushed. "I wish I could've seen her audition, though…" he said quietly.

"Who?" asked the boy sitting next to Tito with a grin. "You said you wanted to see _her_ try out?"

"Aw, Marlon, it wasn't anybody," Michael said, blushing really hard now.

"Oooooohh, Mikey's got a girlfriend!" teased the boy sitting next to him.

"Oh, come on, Randy," Michael tried to protest. "She wasn't, I mean, I-"

"Who is she?" asked Jackie with a smile. "Is she cute? Did you get her number?"

"Come on, guys," said Michael, totally embarrassed now. "It's not a big deal."

"Oh, but it is!" said Marlon. "You're blushing up a storm. You don't wanna talk about it. It's pretty obvious you like her, Mike."

"So what's her name?" asked Tito. "She sounds pretty swell, from the way you're not telling us anything."

"Yeah, that's a sure sign there's somethin' goin' on between you two," said Randy.

Michael smiled. I could tell there was no use keeping anything from his brothers.

"You guys, cut it out," said the girl with the fluffy hair sitting next to Michael. "If he doesn't want to say it, he doesn't have to say it. But we know the truth." She nudged him. "We know you got some feelings for her."

Michael rolled his eyes. "LaToya, that's not true…"

"Come on, Michael!" teased the little girl sitting next to Tito. She was really cute, her hair in little pigtails, her toothy smile grinning at her brother. "We wanna know everything!"

"Oh, Janet, not you, too," said Michael.

"We'll stop pestering you if you just _tell_ us!" said Marlon.

"Yeah, come on, Mike!"

"Please, Michael!"

"Come on!"

"All right! All right! I surrender!" said Michael, waving his hands back and forth. "I'll tell you!"

They all looked at him inquiringly.

"Her name's Kylie," he began, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Did he just say _me? _"I was running really late for auditions, and when I came in the auditorium, all the judges were packing up their stuff to go. I asked them if I could try out, but they kept telling me auditions were over. Finally, I begged enough so that they let me go up."

"Where does Kylie come in?" asked Janet excitedly.

"Just listen," Randy told her.

"So I sang 'Black Or White' and did my dance that goes along with it, and once I was done I asked them if they liked it, but they didn't say anything. Finally, they just told me to come back tomorrow and see if I got in. Then I went backstage to grab my hat that I threw back there during the song, and I saw Kylie trip. Being the good person that I try to be, I helped her up and asked if she was okay."

"That was so sweet of you," said LaToya.

Michael blushed. "We then talked for a while, but then Joseph called and I had to come home."

"What did you guys talk about?" asked Jackie with a sly smile.

"Nothing much, she just said she saw my audition and that she really liked it. She also wanted to know…" He began to laugh.

"What?" said Marlon.

"She just wanted to know how I was such a good dancer," said Michael laughing. They all laughed too.

Then, a deep voice said, "So. You're back."

They all turned around. Standing near the kitchen was a tall man with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face. "And that's why you were late. You were with some girl."

"It's not a big deal," said Tito. "He just met her at auditions and they struck up a conversation."

"I wasn't talking to you," the man said. Then he turned back to Michael. "Why did you stay to see this 'girl' instead of coming straight back like I told you?"

I saw the look of fear in Michael's eyes, and I thought that that man must be his dad. "Joseph, I can talk to anybody I want to. I came home a little late. Is it really that bad?"

"It is if this girl is gonna keep you from gettin' into that school," Joseph snapped. "What was so special about this little imp that kept you from returning straight home?"

"That 'little imp' has a name," Michael said defiantly. "Her name is Kylie. She's a very sweet person. She's really nice."

"Well, I won't hear of it," Joseph replied in a loud voice. "If this Kylie person or whatever is gonna keep you from everything, I don't want you goin' to that school. She sounds like a real troublemaker."

"Now, Joseph, he was just trying to be nice to a girl he met at tryouts," Mrs. Jackson said defensively. "She didn't cause him any harm, and he still came home at a decent time."

"You stay out of this, Katherine," Joseph snapped. He turned back to his son. "I forbid you from ever seeing this Kylie kid ever again. She's just gonna cause more mischief, it sounds like, and if I ever hear about you seeing her again, I promise you there will be trouble."

"But Joseph, I-" Michael tried to say, but his dad shouted,

"No buts! You're not to see her and that's final!"

For a moment, Michael forgot he was afraid of his dad and said, "You can't tell me what to do or what friends I make!"

"Dammit, son, you will follow my orders!" He raised his hand to a terrified Michael, and he brought it down on him full force...

I woke up in tears and a cold sweat. But I swear I could hear Michael's yelp of pain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Friends **

I didn't sleep too well the rest of the night. I kept thinking about my dream, how Michael had been hit by his father. It seemed like he had a good life-a wonderful mom, great siblings…but it was still a dream. If his dad was such a jerk-off in the dream, I really hoped he wasn't one in real life.

I thought about my own dad.

My parents had divorced after Evan was born, and Dad moved out to New York. We still hear from him from time to time, but I only get to see him maybe once a year. Evan and I were taking a trip up to see him for spring break, and hopefully, it'd be a lot of fun.

My dad was nice and fun and cool, the exact opposite Michael's father seemed to be.

The next day, my mom and I drove up to Riffley Auditorium, and I wasn't surprised to see a lot of other kids my age there. They were all looking at the big list on the door to see if they had been accepted. I flew out the car door and raced past the crowd towards the list. It was last-name-first, so I put my finger on the _C's_ and scrolled down.

_Cadfield, Heather…Clemens, Trudy…Codds, Freddy…_

Wait…was that it? Did I just see what I thought I saw?

I looked at the name below Freddy's and it read:

_Connell, Kylie._

Oh. My. Gosh.

I did it. I really did it. I got in. I got in! Heck, I got in!

"YES!" I cried, pumping my fists in the air. A few people stared at me, but I didn't care. I was in. I made it. I was now a student at the Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts. "I'm in! I'm in! Woo-hoo! All right, I'm in, baby! Woo!" I did a little dance, despite all the people now staring.

Then, I thought of someone else. I looked at the names under the _J's_.

Sure enough, I found it. _Jackson, Michael_.

I squealed with delight and jumped up and down.

"What's wrong with that girl?" someone asked.

"Nothin.' What's wrong with you?" I replied, now pretty much high off my happiness.

I wandered off into the crowd, still smiling, and looked around for Michael so I could congratulate him and tell him I had made it too.

But I didn't see him. Disappointment washed over me.

Just then I heard something. It sounded like a guitar, electric, and whoever was playing it was doing this awesome solo. I followed the music and pushed through the crowd. I was awestruck at what I saw.

The guitarist was a girl wearing a grey ski cap over her braided light-brown hair. She had a unique taste in fashion, with her jacket unzipped over a t-shirt under a tank top. Her jeans were covered in Sharpie drawings and had tons of holes and rips in them. A purple-and-black zebra pattern mini-skirt was worn over the jeans. Converse shoes covered with stickers and marker doodles were on her feet.

The girl continued to play on her black-and-white guitar, while people stared in amazement. This girl was GOOD.

When she finished playing, everyone whistled and cheered and applauded. She bowed and said, "Thank you! Thank you! Glad you enjoyed the show. Come back next time to hear more new material from The Jess-ster!"

The crowd parted away, and I walked up to her.

"Wow, you are the best guitarist I have ever heard," I told her, still in utter shock from her mind-blowing skills. "It's like you're a mini version of Hendrix!" I was a little surprised by my own comment, but the girl replied,

"Aw, thanks. I love Hendrix, he's one of my idols, well, along with Van Halen and Steve Vai and, hmm, who's that guy who was in that one band, and they broke up in '79, and their biggest hit was 'Best For Me And You'? Ohh…darn it, I can't remember, but that guy, too." She giggled. "Glad you liked the song, I wrote it myself."

My jaw dropped. She wrote that masterpiece? I couldn't believe it. "Wha…what…how did you create that, that-"

"I can't say," she said, putting a finger on her chin and thinking hard. "I guess it was just my imagination…or my imaginary BFF, Pedro." She looked at the ground next to her. "What do you think, Pedro?" After a few moments, she said, "No, Pedro, you can't wear that ridiculous sweater with Hello Kitty on it to McDonald's. How many times have I told you that?" A few more seconds. "God, you're so annoying! Go chase a Big Mac for all I care."

I laughed. That was some friend she had.

"I'm Jess." She spit on her hand and stuck it out to me. I was a little creeped out, but she said laughing, "Go on, I won't bite."

I offered her my fist instead. She understood and bumped her fist on top of mine.

"I'm Kylie," I said. "I guess I am now officially a fan of yours."

We laughed, and my heart glowed with joy that I'd found a new friend.

"Oh, there's someone else I want you to meet," said Jess, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward a boy leaning against the wall.

He had fluffy sandy hair, and he was kind of cute, but not as cute as Michael. He was wearing a shirt with a stick figure farting, with the caption above it reading If it was me, you'd be dead. He also wore blue jeans and black-and-red Vans sneakers. He seemed like a pretty cool guy.

"Yo, BJ!" Jess called, and the boy turned to look at us. He smiled and said,

"Hey, Jess! How's the greatest guitarist in the world?" He and Jess did a really cool handshake. He noticed me. "And who's this cool chick?"

I giggled and said, "Kylie. I was just passing by when I heard Jess play."

"Ah, then you too have experienced the magic and wonder that is the Jess-ster." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Me, well, first of all, my name is Buster. Buster James. But you can call me anything." He spun around and pointed a finger gun and we laughed. "Did you get in LACPA?"

"Yes!" I still couldn't get over how happy I was that I'd made it.

"Oh, that's great!" Jess cheered. "Buster and I made it too!"

"Congratulations!" I exclaimed, and we all high-fived.

"So what can you do, anyway?" Jess asked me.

"I can sing, I guess…" I replied, blushing.

"Oh, cool! Well, as you know, I'm the next generation of rock-and-roll." Jess played an awesome solo on her guitar. "Those wannabes can _eat it!"_

"What about you, Buster?" I asked.

"Well, let's just say I kick major butt at drums," he replied, drumming his fingers on air. "There's not a song I can't play or a beat I can't match."

"Awesome!" I said. I was feeling spectacular. Jess and Buster were so cool, and so nice. I got the feeling we'd be friends for a long, long time.

Just then I heard a car horn.

_BEEP BEEP! _It was my mom_._

"I have to go," I told them, disappointed. "My mom's waiting on me."

"Okay," said Jess. "It was nice meeting you, Kylie. We'll see you in September!"

"See ya, Ky." Buster pointed at me with a wink. "Can't wait to be starting school with you."

We all high-fived one more time, and I walked over to my mom's car. I saw them waving, and I waved back.

I got in, closed the door, put my seatbelt on, and we drove off towards home.

"So did you get in?" my mom asked.

"Yes!" I shouted. "I'm here, buddy! I've arrived! I am now officially a student at LACPA!"

"Oh Ky, that's great!" said Mom. "I'm so proud of you! And how about we get something to celebrate this occasion?"

Ten minutes later, we pulled out of the parking lot, sipping shakes we got from Arby's.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," said Mom. "Did Michael get in?"

"Yeah, he did," I replied, wishing I could've seen him. "But he wasn't there."

"That's a shame. You two are a really cute pair."

"Honestly, mom!" I said, shaking my head. "I just met him at auditions. There's nothing going on between us."

"Oh, but he's cute. You two seem like the perfect match."

I sighed. "Whatever. We're just acquaintances."

But secretly, I hoped that, in time, we'd be something more.

The remainder of my summer was basically doing the same old stuff, well, minus the calls from Lisa, who still was convinced I was Miss Goody Two-Shoes. She left a message on my cell phone when we got home:

"_Hey, I'm talking to Kylie. Oops, my bad, __**Pre-Madonna**__. I was just wondering how you were with your new popular friends, now that you're, like, queen of the school or whatever. But it's not like I care anyway. I wouldn't want to be hanging out with someone who's got a huge attitude problem anyway._

_See ya, loser. Lisa."_

I rolled my eyes in frustration. God, why couldn't she just drop it?

I'd noticed on the flyer outside the auditorium that said school started on September 1st. So a week before then, my mom and I went out school shopping and got everything essential: notebooks, paper, pencils, binders, the works.

I'd also looked up the LACPA website and found that you could also bring any instrument of your choice, if you were an aspiring musician (minus drums, because they had them at the school). Me, well, the only thing I could do was sing, but I was also a pretty-okay guitar player, not half as good as Jess, but still good. I decided to bring my guitar.

A few days before school started, I wanted to give my dad a call and tell him my good news. So I looked under my 'contacts' list on my phone until I found the name that said 'Dad' and the number. I chose that and held the phone up to my ear. After a few rings, I heard a pleasant male voice say, "Hello?"

"Dad! Hey! It's me, Kylie," I said. "How have you been?"

"Oh, hi there, sugar plum!" my dad replied. 'Sugar plum' was his nickname for me, after I'd starred as one in my first grade play of _The Nutcracker_. "I'm doing just fine, sweetie. How 'bout you?"

"I've got big news!" I was jumping up and down with excitement.

"How big?" Dad teased. "Bigger than a burrito, bigger than a giant squid, or bigger than the moon?" That was one of our favorite games to play, 'How big?'.

"Bigger than all three combined!"

"Well, then, it must be big. Fire away."

I then explained to him about seeing the flyer for LACPA and auditioning.

"Oh, that's wonderful! I wish I was there to see you. You sounded amazing." he said.

Then I told him about seeing Michael try out, and running into him backstage. I explained how he was so sweet and kind, and how amazingly talented he was.

"Oooh-hoo-hoo, he sounds pretty cool," said Dad. "It sounds to me like he's got the hots for you."

I sighed. When was all this 'he-likes-you' business going to stop? "Dad, I just met him at auditions."

"Well, you should expect on seeing a lot more of him now that you two are students at the school. And who knows? Maybe you'll become friends."

"I sure hope so," I replied. "He was so nice…"

Just then I heard a female voice in the background say, "Honey, are you ready to go?"

"Just a minute, dear," my dad called back. He said to me, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to get off now."

"Who was that other person?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh, no one, Ky, just a friend, that's all. We're going to a movie."

"Oh, okay then…" I was still suspicious about the strange girl. My dad would tell me if he had a girlfriend or something…right?

"It was great talking to you, Kylie," said Dad. "I'm so happy for you! Congrats on making it into LACPA…and for meeting Michael, ha-ha!"

I rolled my eyes. "Bye, Dad, love you,"

"Love you, sugar plum."

We hung up.

I smiled. Even with the mysterious woman he'd been talking to, I was feeling pretty good.

I loved talking with my dad.

The night before school, I X-ed out one more day on my Music Icons calendar (this month was The Beatles). Then I threw the marker across the room, and flopped down on my bed, too excited to sleep.

I took this moment to look back on all the things that had happened to me so far. I called these times LB, for Looking Back. I remembered seeing the flyer on the store window, and auditioning, and meeting Michael…I skipped through learning I'd gotten into LACPA and meeting Jess and Buster, and just stayed put on meeting Michael.

Even though I'd only seen him once, I couldn't stop thinking about him. There was just something about him that I was hooked on…was it his good looks or his cool reputation? Probably both. Was it because he was so nice and sweet and had a great sense of humor? Yeah, those too.

It's weird, isn't it? You can meet some guy you really like but you're not sure if he likes you back, and he's kind and caring and everything, and he just puts some sort of spell on you or something that you just can't ignore. And you're wondering, hmm, is he really the guy for me? Is he really the right choice?

But no matter what others tell you, you've got to listen to your heart. And if your heart tells you that he's really the one for you, then there's no stopping anything. You go out there and you tell that guy how you really feel and hope for the best.

Yeah, I always listen to my heart.

And my heart told me it was Michael.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: First Day**

The next day, I woke up as excited as a little kid going to see the movie he'd been wanting to check out.

This was my first day at LACPA.

I was feeling so happy that I turned on my CD player and listened to music as I shuffled through my closet. The song that resumed playing when I pressed the button was the Black Eyed Peas' hit 'I Gotta Feeling', which was perfect for this morning.

As usual, I chose an outfit that matched my mood: my SpongeBob t-shirt, faded blue jeans and lime-green Converse hi-tops. I then brushed my teeth, packed all my new school stuff in my new purple-black-and-silver backpack, gently packed my guitar in its case, and brushed my hair.

I sang along in my hairbrush in front of the mirror.

"I know that we'll have a ball, if we get down and go out and just lose it all…I feel stressed out, I wanna let it go, let's go way out spaced out and losing all control…"

When I was all ready, I hurried downstairs with my stuff. I opened the cabinet door looking for some Pop-Tarts, because, hey, I was having a good morning, and nothing perks me up more than Pop-Tarts.

I found a new box of them. Mom must have gone shopping. And they were Hot Fudge Sundae flavor, too.

I picked up the box to shake out a pack-and it was empty, except for one more package of food left.

I took down the box from the shelf and was about to tear into the food-when Evan ran by and up and snatched it out of my hand.

"Hey! I was planning on eating those!" I protested.

"So am I," my little brother replied. "We have a kest skeeper coming in today to talk about the aminal shelter."

"Don't you mean 'guest speaker' and 'animal shelter'?"

"Big deal," he said. "I want to be alert and focused."

I rolled my eyes and looked around for anything else I could eat. I found a box of Lucky Charms cereal and made myself a bowl. I practically chugged it down, I was so excited. I also swigged a glass of orange juice down my throat before running into my mom's room to try and get her to hurry up.

I found her just pulling her shoes on, so I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the door. "Come on, Mom! We gotta go! School won't wait forever!"

She staggered behind, trying to run a brush through her long auburn hair as I steered her into the kitchen. "Wow, Ky, I haven't seen you that excited to go to school since the Disneyland field trip in 5th grade."

"Well, think of this as another Disneyland thing," I said as she finished brushing her hair. "If we don't leave now, we'll miss all the fun!"

Mom grabbed her purse, her shoulder bag she uses at work, and her car keys, Evan and I gathered all our stuff, and we hopped in the car.

We were off.

After we dropped Ev off at the elementary school, we sped on to LACPA.

When we arrived at the road it was on, I looked around for a big fancy building, or a place that said Los Angeles Center for Performing Arts or something like that. But I didn't see anything like that.

"Where is it, exactly?" I asked Mom.

"It's right here," she replied, pointing to a building.

I was surprised. It was a huge brick building, about 5 stories tall, taking up an entire block. There was a big black door in the front, with a giant sign above it reading in large white letters:

**The Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts**

_**Teaching tomorrow's visionaries today**_

_Well, _I thought, _it's not as nice as I thought it would be, but it's still something._

We saw a few cars pulling up to the front entrance, and kids got out with their stuff. Then they walked through the front door.

"I can't believe my Ky-Ky is going to a performing arts school," said Mom as we drove up to the main entrance. "It seems like just yesterday you were singing Britney Spears in front of the family at three years old."

"Aw, Mom, you're such a wuss," I replied, unbuckling my seat belt and tossing my backpack strap over my shoulder. "I'm just now starting high school. It's not like I'm going off to college yet or anything." She just smiled.

We were next in line to drop me off when I saw a black Lexus door open, and a girl with a grey ski cap get out…

"That's Jess!" I said, recognizing the girl from the auditorium.

"Who?" said Mom.

"I met her and a guy named Buster the day after try-outs, when I was looking to see if I got accepted here," I explained. "They're both really cool."

I saw a sticker-and-doodle-covered Converse hi-top reach out and touch the pavement. Then an arm with a lot of gel bracelets reached out, holding a sticker decorated guitar case. Finally, all of Jess got out of the car. She said something to the driver, and the Lexus sped off.

She looked my way and saw me. She waved and waited patiently with her stuff on the steps leading up to the front door.

"Well, I guess I'd better go now," I told Mom as we pulled up. I opened the door, got my backpack and guitar case, and got out of the Honda.

"Bye, Ky," said Mom. "Hope you have a kick-butt first day. Oh, and say hi to Michael for me."

Michael. I'd almost forgotten. He'd be a fellow student of mine.

"Don't worry, Mom, I will. Love you."

"Love you."

I closed the door, my mother drove away, and I walked up the steps to meet Jess.

"Hey!" she greeted me as I met her. "How's the um, uh…sorry, what's your name again?"

"Kylie," I replied, giggling. People were always forgetting my name.

"Right, the Ky-ster. So what's up?" She spit on her hand again and held it out to me, but I still couldn't get used to the gross idea, so I gave her a fist-bump instead.

I told her how I honestly felt. "I'm really excited but really nervous at the same time."

"Hey, isn't everybody?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I spent the whole night practicing my guitar because I was so stoked."

Just then, a Ford F1-50 truck pulled up, and even though the windows were rolled up, we could hear heavy rock music blaring.

The passenger door opened, and, wouldn't you know, out of the car stepped:

"Buster!" Jess called. "Yo, BJ!"

Our friend grabbed a big Land's End backpack, slammed the door, and the truck zoomed off.

He ran up the steps to us.

"Hey, Buster!" I said. "Good to see you. Are you as nervous as we are?"

"Sure as heck, yeah." He ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. "But I still can't wait to get started. Before you know it, I'm gonna be kicking those other drummer's butts so hard, they won't know what hit 'em."

We all turned around and looked up at the building that would be our source of education for the next four years. It was a big step, we knew, but we'd never know what it'd have in store for us if we didn't try. We could handle this.

"Well?" said Jess. "Shall we go in, fellow compadres?"

"I guess so…" I said.

"It's worth a shot," said Buster. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

With that, we all walked into the school.

You ever feel like you're getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the circus, and you see all the clowns and acrobats and dancers and everything? Well, that's how I felt.

It was wild. There were all sorts of kids from all sorts of different backgrounds. They were yelling and shouting, texting and flirting, playing instruments, singing, dancing in the hallway (we passed these guys break-dancing, and they were good!), and throwing pieces of paper at eachother. We had to duck as a volley of paper airplanes sailed over our heads. Somebody threw a pencil case across the hall and it almost hit Jess in the face.

"Wow, it's like someone let loose all the animals from the zoo," she said. "This place is more hectic than Disneyland during Spring Break."

"Where do we go?" I asked. I had to raise my voice over the noise of the other kids.

I think some girl heard me, because she walked up to me.

"To the auditorium," she said. "For orientation."

"What?"

"It's a welcome speech or something. Everyone's going there." She walked beside me, and after a while, she added, "My name's Addison."

I was about to tell her mine when she tripped and fell. She hit the floor on her knees, and all her stuff spilled out of her backpack. I helped her up, and gathered up her belongings.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah…yes, I'm fine, thanks." She swung her pack over her shoulder, and bent down to pick up a pair of…crutches. "Stupid wooden plastic pieces of junk. They said I wouldn't need them after two years." She rolled her eyes. "That's what they said about the chemo, too. And the surgery, and the transfusions, and the marrow transplants, and all those visits to the ER…"

What? What did she say about surgery and chemo? The fusions and transplants? Was something wrong with her? Was she sick?

"Is everything well with you?" I asked.

She didn't say anything. Then after a moment, she said, "I'm all right…just a walking, talking, living freak show…"

"What do you mean?"

"It's nothing, don't worry." She tried for a smile, but I could see the sadness in her eyes.

"This is nuts," said Buster, watching some girl hit a boy over and over on the head with her flute case. "It's like everyone's battling over who will win the final game of March Madness and tripping over eachother to get to the arena where it'll be held."

Addison was walking with us to the gym on her crutches. "So what's your talent?" she asked me.

"I can sing," I replied. "But nothing major compared to what I've seen in the three minutes I've been here." I sidestepped a football that almost hit me in the back of the head. "What about you?"

"I like playing the piano. I can play Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and a little Beatles." She smiled. "I still need some work on 'Let it Be'."

"Hey guys," said Jess. "I think the auditorium is this way."

Everyone was heading to these big heavy doors and pooling in. We followed.

All any of us could say when we walked inside was, "Whoa."

It was huge.

There were about 300 empty cushioned seats filling up a room the size of a football field. The walls were deep red, with big red plaster shooting stars for accents. The stage, down in front, was about the size of a large swimming pool, and it was flagged by two giant red velvet curtains at the end.

Everyone was looking around, open-mouthed. Some were taking seats. I guessed we'd better do the same.

Jess, Buster, the girl Addison and I sat next to eachother in the soft chairs. I looked at the other kids. Some were texting, some listening to their iPods, some passing notes.

I looked around for Michael, but I didn't see him. Maybe he was still getting here, maybe he was in a row of seats I couldn't notice.

On the stage, a woman tapped a microphone on a stand and cleared her throat to get our attention. We all turned and looked at her.

"Good morning," she said, her brown hair bun bouncing as she talked. She smoothed out her flower-print skirt and continued. "Welcome, welcome, students at the Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts. I am Mrs. Haywire."

Someone in the audience snickered, but she didn't notice.

"This is an important day for all of you, as this starts off your first day at this establishment for the next four years. What you accomplish here will help you later on the road in life. Whatever your talent or occupation is, you will always be able to look back at the fabulous times you had here."

We all remained silent. She wasn't doing a very good job of getting us pumped for our first day.

"And now, if you please, the principal of the school, Mr. Matthew Dawson." She motioned with her arm as an African American man in a blue polo shirt walked up and took the mike. We all applauded slightly.

"Hello, hello, future stars," he began, and his booming voice snapped us to attention much more than the old, wiry one of Mrs. Haywire. "And welcome to LACPA. I'd like to say a few words before we let all you hormonally-challenged monkeys loose to go to your first class."

A few people giggled.

"As you all know, each of you had a lot to do to make it here. You first had to do the thing which was probably the hardest step for most of you: find your talent and realize your dream. Then you had to choose what you were going to do to try and impress us for your audition piece.

"Third, you had to try out your talent for a bunch of judges who really had things better to do with their time besides noticing what you could and couldn't do. Next, the fourth thing you endured was tossing and turning all night, anxious to see if you actually got in this school or not.

"And last, but not least, the fifth and final task was waking up, pulling on your shoes, and rushing out the door, hoping to see your name on our list of students. Some of you got your wish-others…did not."

We continued to listen. This guy was good.

"Now, I could go on and on and on about all the kids who tried out and their sad attempt to fool all of the judges into thinking they were actually good, but I'll just cut to the chase. Over 650 kids and teens auditioned…and we only accepted half."

A few people gasped. That many got in, out of all the others?

"So." Mr. Dawson clapped his big hands together. "Here you all are now…waiting for us, the teachers, to fill your empty adolescent heads with knowledge you think you'll probably never use in the real world. Well, you're wrong. Some of the stuff, you're right, you may never use in real life. But the things you do benefit from learning here, those will help you far greater than you ever imagined."

Just then I heard a _dling! _I looked down and saw Addison's phone. A little envelope was flashing on the screen. She'd gotten a text message.

She blushed and looked around to see if anyone had heard, even though it was a small sound. It seemed that I'd been the only one to hear it. She opened the text, and, being the, well, um…curious person I am, I looked down and read as she read:

To: Addison

From: Mom

Subject: Don't forget your meds

Hey, remember to take your Lysocate at 4. Also, after school today you have another appointment with Dr. Paterson UCLA. Oh, and also remember to take the Quilosote AT 1:30!

Addison sighed and rolled her eyes in frustration, then hit 'reply' and texted her back.

To: Mom

From: Addison

Subject: Re: Don't forget your meds

Mom, I know what my pills are and when to take them, OK? You don't have to text me like a billion times a day to remind me. Man, Dr. Paterson? You know I hate going there! You know what he did to me last time. L

She hit 'send' and snapped her Samsung shut when she saw the words MESSAGE SENT! on the screen. She then slipped it back into her pocket, and focused again on Mr. Dawson.

The principal continued in a slow voice. "What you learn today could change the world tomorrow." He looked across at all of us, as if he had us fixed in a trance. He started pacing back and forth, mike in hand. "The world needs dreamers. The world needs believers. The world needs _achievers_."

He looked us all dead-on.

"Every generation, I believe that God himself sends us a person or two who will really make a change in this world, who will have the power to make it a whole lot better. The last generation had its people, and the one after this will have its favorites, but the people of _this_ generation…are you."

He pointed to us.

"Each of you has been given a talent, a God-given talent that without it, you would not have been able to get into this school. Some of you have multiple talents…"

I thought of Michael, how he could sing and dance.

"…and some only have one. But whatever your talent is, whatever you excel at in performing arts the most….that is what makes you great. Your skills and your abilities shape and mold who you are. And there is nothing greater in this world, than to walk up on this stage-" He pointed to the floor. "-and receive your graduation diploma, knowing that you put your talents to good use, and used them to fulfill your goals that got you through four years."

He wiped his hand on his pants and went on.

"You _all_ have the ability to turn whatever you do into something great. _You_ have the power to reach your full potential. _You_ can do what _no adult could ever do_." He raised his voice, and we were all getting more and more worked up with every word he spoke.

"_You_ have the strength to make it through these years here, and to exercise your brain, to exercise your _mind_. _You_ have the power to fight for what's right, and to _take what is yours_. _You_ have the power to shoot for the stars, the moon, and the heavens above. _You have the power to realize your dream, and make it come true_."

At this point, we all cheered and whistled and applauded, some even getting out of their seats. Man, this guy was powerful. We couldn't believe that he could give such a moving speech like that. Oh yeah, he was _definitely_ more motivating than Mrs. Haywire.

Mr. Dawson waved his arm in the air to signal us to be quiet. Then, he concluded:

"My last few words are small, but important-never give up. Don't ever, ever think that just because you think someone is better than you at whatever, or because you may not have what someone else has, you're worthless and you mean nothing. _No_. You are _all_ strong, brave, and talented individuals, and I hope that you have some great times, here at the Los Angeles Center for the Performing Arts. Thank you, and good luck." He waved his hand, placed the microphone back on the stand, and walked off the stage.

We all applauded once more, and then, realizing that that was the end of orientation, we all filed out of the auditorium.

Once we were out in the hallway, we all checked our schedules to see who we had first period.

I read mine aloud. "Let's see-I have Mr. Jenko in Room 1, then Ms. Hadley in Room 6, Mr. McMavis in Room 5, Mrs. Lolasco in the dance room, Dr. Wilder in the lab, Miss Trudy in the auditorium, and then Miss Calloway in the chorus room."

I noticed that Jenko taught math, Hadley was Language Arts, McMavis was social studies, and Wilder was science. Of course, then that must meant Lolasco taught dance, and Calloway taught chorus. Trudy directed theater. It also seemed like we'd be going to lunch in Wilder's class.

Overall, I was feeling pretty confident. I was good in all subjects, well, except for math. It wasn't my real strong point. But that was just one class out of six others. Who knew what I might be best at?

So yeah, I read my schedule, and Jess said, "Cool." She read over hers. "Hey, I have almost every class with you!"

"You do?" I replied. "Which ones are different?"

"Just the one. Social studies. Other than that, it seems we have every class together."

"Great! Hey Buster, what classes do you have?"

"Pretty much the same as yours, but I have social studies and chorus at different times than you." He folded a corner of his schedule paper back and forth. "Looks like we'll be pretty busy then, huh?"

"Addison, who do you have?" I asked, but she was gone. For a girl who used crutches, she sure was quiet.

"Well…shall we be off, then?" said Jess. We nodded, and the three of us walked to our first class.

When we got to Room 1, we saw a lot of other kids already sitting in their seats. Mr. Jenko stood at the front of the room in front of his desk. He and everybody else was looking at us.

"Um, are we late?" Jess asked.

"Quite," Jenko replied. "I do not stand for many things, including tardiness, but since it's the first day, I'll let you slip. Now take your things and find a seat!" he growled.

We didn't wait to be told twice. Luckily, there were three empty seats in the back of the room, so that's where we sat.

"Now," said Jenko. "Before we were so rudely interrupted by a bunch of three late youngsters…" He glared at us through his glasses. "…we were trying to figure out the answer to a question." He pointed to an African-American girl with pretty wavy black hair. "Miss…err…?"

"Sienna. Sienna Allbright." the girl replied. I could see she wore a lot of lip gloss. Eye shadow, too.

"Right," Jenko continued. "Miss Allbright. What does pi equal?"

"Three point one four," she said. She gave a toss of her hair. "That's an easy one."

"That's correct," said Jenko. "Now students-as you're well aware, math is a big part of your education and your life. If you…"

He rambled on and on about how equations and fractions could help us in the real world or whatever, but we tuned him out. Jess passed me a note:

Is this dude boring or what?

I nodded and wrote back:

Totally! As if we'll really need to use decimals for when we're going to the bathroom!

When I handed it back to her, she laughed, and I laughed too.

"Girls! What is so funny?" snapped Jenko.

"Nothing, sir, we were just, umm…remembering something funny," said Jess.

"And is this thing 'funny' enough to share with the rest of the class?"

"Uh…" We tried to think of something to tell. I think Jess got an idea because she said, "We were just remembering when we were eight years old and in Girl Scouts, and we were on a camping trip, and it was boys versus girls, and when they went to sleep, we totally tee-peed their tent, went crazy with the silly string everywhere, and sprayed shaving cream on their faces." We both chuckled nervously, hoping he'd buy it.

Jenko just stared at us like he didn't care. "Very well," he finally said. "You both had a good laugh about it. Now, back to work."

The girl named Sienna Allbright turned around in her seat and gave us a smug smile.

I was a bit surprised at this, because I'm not a mean person, and Jess wasn't, either. She'd given us a look like we were stupid or something.

Oh, well. I guess some people are just like that.

The class after math went a bit better, although Sienna was in it with us. I didn't worry too much about it, though. I'm pretty good at Language Arts, and I liked Ms. Hadley. She was really fun, and super nice. So nice, in fact, that all she had us do for the entire period was have us watch a movie, with a simple quiz to go along with it. It was no sweat. And the movie wasn't bad, either.

I was excellent in social studies, and Mr. McMavis was really impressed. We took a test to see what all fifty states and their capitals were. I got every question right.

After that was science. I guess I did okay in that one, although all we did was talk about stuff like the human body, just to see what we remembered from middle school.

A while later, it was time to go to lunch. I usually liked to read after I finished eating, and since Jess and Buster weren't in this class, I brought my book _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _to keep me occupied. I love Harry Potter. He's one of my all-time favorite book characters.

So we all walked out of class and towards the cafeteria. Once we got inside, I realized it was big. Red stool-seats and granite tabletops filled the large room. Posters of famous people saying 'Got Milk?' were on the walls. There were also banners that said stuff like 'Reach for the stars!' and 'You can achieve anything!'

I got in the lunch line, and bought only a slice of pizza and a carton of chocolate milk. I wasn't really all that hungry.

Once I paid my food, and set my book under the pizza plate, I looked around for any available seats. It was pretty crowded, and I scanned the room looking for an empty spot.

Then, I saw him. I'd know his face anywhere. He was sitting all alone at an empty table, and he seemed to be drawing something. My heart filled with joy at the sight of him, and I walked over to sit with him.

It was Michael.


End file.
